


Taken Care Of

by Mrs_SimonTam_PHD



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Being taken care of, Drug Use, Lucifer is 18 but in high school, Numbing Pain Unhealthily, This toes the line of underage but hey safe than sorry, Underage Drinking, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, implied sexual favors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-15 13:40:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28814292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mrs_SimonTam_PHD/pseuds/Mrs_SimonTam_PHD
Summary: After the death of his mother and his brother running away from home, an 18 year old Lucifer loses himself into the world of sex, drugs, and alcohol when an unexpected person comes in to help him.
Relationships: Referenced Dick Roman/Lucifer, Referenced OMC/Lucifer
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	Taken Care Of

**Author's Note:**

> First fic of 2021!!
> 
> This was inspired by events in a story I'm writing with a friend, and I had to write a standalone type version of it. 
> 
> NOTE: Lucifer is a legal adult, but because of the fact that he's still in school and some of the events referenced started before he turned 18, I have marked the underage tag. There's also drug use (magic mushrooms) and alcohol use that's considered underage in the US. Drink responsibly.
> 
> e 333333333333333334- words of wisdom by a 4 month old kitten named Seraphim.

Lucifer Alighieri moved through the sea of bodies, laughing as he grabbed at and groped, loving the attention from the men who were doing so. He made his way to the bar and hopped up onto the stool, giving it a childlike spin before putting it his head in his hands and looking at the tall, dark, and handsome bartender with a coy smile. “Three tequila shots, please, Bart,” he cooed, adjusting the mesh shirt that covered his torso and spandex shorts that hugged every curve of his ass. The simple make up that he had done earlier had already been ruined, black streaks of mascara and eyeliner running down his face and the baby pink lipstick smeared across his lips. 

Bart exhaled and arched a brow. “Luc, you’ve had a lot tonight,” he said. “I should cut you off.” 

“You financing, feeding, or fucking me?” Lucifer asked mildly. “Since the answer to all of those three is no, I’ll take my shots now, please.” 

Bart sighed and grabbed the top shelf tequila off of the shelf. “You know that this isn’t good for you,” he said. 

“Yes, I know, I’ve had a lot to drink,” Lucifer replied blandly as he watched the shots line up. 

Bart glared at him. “You’re  _ eighteen _ , Lucifer.” 

“And you’re still serving me,” Lucifer said. Getting no reply except for the shots being shoved at him, he downed them easily, smacking his lips in satisfaction. 

He was drunk and high, alcohol and mushrooms flowing through his veins. He took a slightly larger dose than usual, and had eaten them wet instead of dry. It didn’t matter, he was feeling himself. Here, he was just Lucifer, just a young boy to fill his body with alcohol and drugs and to fuck with no consequences. He didn’t have to play house, or worry about his senior year of high school. He didn’t have to worry about his brothers or his father. He didn’t have to feel the guilt and shame of causing his mother’s death, or causing his one brother to run away. 

All of that didn’t matter right now. He didn’t have to worry about that when he was like this. All he had to worry about who he was fucking, how many drinks he had, and whether or not he was going home. If not, which much older than him man would take him home and fuck him until his brain was scrambled. 

It had only been nine months since his mother died and Gabriel ran away, and he felt like he was carrying that burden alone. The boy quick to give a smile and a song became a stoic, moody young man. The man who took over caring for his family; who forgot his own eighteenth birthday, signed his college papers by his mother’s grave, who hunted for his brother still. 

The only time he smiled as genuinely as he used to was when he was out at the clubs, drunk, high and sexed up. 

It reminded him that he was alive. 

His shots finished, Lucifer paid Bart, slipped off the barstool, and went over to the dancing area. A mechanical bull had been set up for the night, and an older man standing near it pulled Lucifer to him. “Scotty,” Lucifer purred. “Long time, no see, handsome.” 

“I had business, Luci darling,” the man chuckled, kissing his forehead. “How about I pay you two hundred to ride the bull to make it up to you?” 

“Mmm, okay,” Lucifer hummed with a laugh. “Consider it done.” And with that, flitted over to the bull, just as a bouncer asked for volunteers. 

He was drunk and high, and Lucifer felt alive. He held onto the bull and rode it, did so well despite the amount of alcohol and drugs in his system. His hips matched pace with the machine, his hands roamed his body, his head tilting back as he lived in the moment. 

God, it felt good to be him right then. 

Once the allotted time was up, he slid off the bull to the jeers and whistles of the crowd. He gave a tipsy version of a bow before he made his way back to Scotty to collect his payment. 

“Baby boy, you looked  _ amazing  _ up there,” Scotty said, two Ben Franklins in his hand. “I think I’m going to need a private in person demonstration very soon, at my place.” 

“Scotty, you’re going to need a seatbelt when I ride it,” Lucifer teased, taking the money and kissing Scotty’s cheek. Seeing another one of his regular fucks, he kissed Scotty on the lips warmly. “We’ll arrange something soon,” he promised. “Thank you for the money.” 

“You earned it, baby boy,” Scotty smiled, patting Lucifer’s ass. Lucifer giggled and tucked his money into his boot before he dashed across the bar to sit next to one of the most powerful men in town. “Hi, Daddy,” he cooed at Dick Roman, the Warden of the state prison on the outskirts. 

“Baby doll, what sort of mischief have you gotten into while I’ve been away?” Dick chuckled, pulling Lucifer closer to him. 

“All sorts, Daddy,” Lucifer giggled as he ended up halfway on the warden’s lap. 

“I can tell,” Dick murmured, running his fingers through Lucifer’s hair before grabbing it and giving it a solid yank. “Your makeup is already ruined. Have you already been fucked tonight, you dirty little slut?”

“Yes, Daddy,” Lucifer purred. “Four times and I’ve also given six BJs.” 

Dick gave a harder yank on Lucifer’s hair. “One day, Lucifer,” he purred darkly, “you’re going to consent to be mine and  _ only  _ mine. My personal little cumslut.” 

“I told you,” Lucifer pouted as he straddled Dick’s lap. “I told you after I’ve graduated, I’ll come and be your personal little whore, yours to use and abuse. But for now, let me have my fun.” 

Dick smiled a dark, sick sort of smile. “Of course, baby doll. I’m just impatient. Now, tell Daddy what you’d like to drink.” 

“Three shots of Sambuca, please,” Lucifer requested politely. 

Dick hailed the roaming bartender and ordered Lucifer’s shots as well as his usual two fingers of cognac on the rocks. When he was done, he looked back at Lucifer and smiled. “You look beautiful like this, little doll,” he murmured. “All youthful, wild, high on life and drunk with the knowledge that you capture a room with your lust and beauty.” 

Lucifer beamed at the compliment, rocking his hips lightly into Dick’s, feeling his hard cock rub against his own. “Thank you, Daddy,” he said sweetly before he leaned in to kiss him. Dick tasted of poorly made coffee, rich cognac, and a musty pack of cigarettes, and Lucifer drank it all in, his body rolling into Dick’s. 

“Aren’t we eager tonight, little doll?” Dick questioned when he had had enough, yanking the younger man back by his hair. 

“I’m always eager, Daddy,” Lucifer laughed, still rolling his hips until Dick gripped his waist with a bruising grip. 

“Brat,” Dick chuckled. “Our drinks are here, so lets drink up and you can work the room. If need be, I’ll take you to mine.” 

Lucifer giggled, got his drinks from Dick and thanked the bartender. He set two of the shots behind him and held up the third. He sniffed it approvingly before locking eyes with Dick and knocking the shot back easily. He did that with the other two shots, letting the alcohol burn his throat. 

The more he drank, the better he felt. Especially when he was high. 

Dick sipped his cognac, amused by the blatant display of sex as Lucifer as Lucifer smacked his lips in satisfaction. 

“Go play now, little doll,” Dick chuckled, smacking the younger man’s ass. Lucifer yelped and wiggled a bit teasingly. 

“Thank you for the drink, Daddy,” Lucifer beamed as he slipped off of Dick’s lap and went off into the crowd to find his next encounter. 

Suddenly, his upper arm was grabbed and he was yanked backwards. The smell of expensive cologne hit his nostrils, the scent of a very specific cologne that identified who grabbed him. “Al!” he greeted Dr. Alastair Picasso, a renowned plastic surgeon and a family friend that he hadn’t seen since his mother’s funeral. “Watcha doin’ here?” 

“Drinking,” Alastair said sternly, raising an eyebrow. “What are  _ you _ doing here?” He leaned in closer, smelled Lucifer’s breath. “Are you drunk?” 

“Jus’ a little tipsy,” Lucifer smiled, pressing himself closer to the older man. “Havin’ so much fun, Al.” 

“Jesus Christ, Lucifer,” Alastair said, gently pushing Lucifer off of him and catching him when he stumbled. “I have half a mind to call your father.” 

“Dear ol’ Dad’s passed out drunk at his typewriter,” Lucifer giggled. “‘Sides, you won’t,” he added as a challenge. 

Alastair looked at him with an unreadable expression for a few moments. “C’mon, Luc. I’ll take you someplace safe,” he said firmly, in a tone that didn’t ask for an opinion. But Lucifer was more than willing to leave with a different objective in mind, wondering if the bachelor held in such high esteem by his mother would be tempted by her son. 

Alastair wrapped his suit coat around Lucifer protectively as they exited the bar. Snow had started to fall amongst the Christmas lights, turning Lucifer’s vision into a beautiful kaleidoscope of colors spiked with icicles. “It’s so beautiful out,” he said. He shivered from the cold and slipped on a patch of ice, laughing as Alastair caught him, unlocked his car and gently shoved him into the passenger seat. 

“It is very lovely out,” Alastair agreed before he closed the door and got into the driver’s seat.

The drive to Alastair’s was quiet, Lucifer humming and not paying any sort of attention to the older man. 

If he had been sober when they arrived, Lucifer would’ve been fascinated by the amount of books and the grand piano in the corner of the living room. But he was drunk and high, and so he clung to Alastair. When Alastair placed him on the incredibly comfortable couch and started to move away, Lucifer tried to pull him down with him.

“No,” Alastair said, avoiding the attempt easily as he tucked an afghan around Lucifer. 

“Please?” Lucifer cooed, batting his lashes. 

“No,” Alastair repeated. “You’re still a child, and you’re drunk.” 

“‘M not a child,” Lucifer pouted, wiggling under the afghan. He was warm, comfortable, and horny. “‘M 18. Not a child.” 

Alastair looked at him with the piercing blue eyes that used to terrify Lucifer into good behavior as a child. “I said ‘no’, Lucifer. Let me get you some water. When did you last eat?” 

“Dinner,” Lucifer sighed. “Bourbon ‘nd honey glazed ham, baked potatoes, wi’ sour cream, and roasted asparagus.” 

“You need to eat something, just in case you throw up,” Alastair said. “I’ll be back.”

The next few hours passed in a haze as Alastair worked to sober up the young man on his couch. He fed Lucifer grilled cheese sandwiches, gave him water to drink, and cleaned the ruined make up from his face. He managed to get Lucifer into sweatpants and an extra large shirt before allowing him to cocoon on the couch. The entire time, Alastair was fending off the young man’s sexual advances, as Lucifer seemed hellbent on sleeping with him. 

It was probably close to three in the morning by the time Lucifer was somewhat sober, but definitely more cognizant. He sipped his tea (ginger with lemon and honey, his favorite) and leaned into Alastair. 

“Talk to me, Lucifer. What’s going on?” Alastair asked. “Why are you doing this?” 

“It’s the only way I can forget,” Lucifer said with a shrug. 

Alastair sighed heavily. “Lucifer, your mother’s death wasn’t your fault. It has never been, and it never will be your fault. It’s the same thing with Gabriel running away. You did everything that you could do and then some.” He brushed a lock of hair out of Lucifer’s face. “You still are now. You haven’t been eating or sleeping well. I can tell.” 

Lucifer shrugged again. “Why sleep when all I do when I sleep is remember? I want to forget.” He sipped his tea, holding it close to him as if to absorb the warmth. “I want to forget how I found her. I want to forget how lost I feel. I want to forget waking up to find Gabriel’s note and screaming because I’ve lost another family member. I just want to  _ forget. _ ” 

Alastair sighed and wrapped his arms around Lucifer, holding him close. “I know, Lucifer. But this isn’t the way to do it. You know that.” 

Lucifer finished his tea and set the cup aside, curling into Alastair. “It helps.” 

“Only temporarily,” Alastair admonished gently. “Do you think Gabriel would want you to do this to yourself?” 

Lucifer shrugged, resting his head on Alastair’s shoulder. 

“What about your mother?” Alastair asked. 

“No,” Lucifer admitted softly. He could hear his mother now, finding out what he’s done to himself.  _ Lucifer, my sweet dawn. What are you doing to yourself? Why are you hurting yourself like this? Do you want to break your mother’s heart? You are worth more than your body. Your life is meant to be so much more than this. Love yourself. _

“She would be very sad if she saw you like this,” Alastair murmured, running his fingers through Lucifer’s hair. “This isn’t who you are, Lucifer. You and I both know that.” 

Lucifer exhaled roughly and nodded. 

“You’re not built to do this, this isn’t you. You aren’t a drinker or a promiscuous man.” 

“It’s what I do for myself, it’s my pleasure time,” Lucifer tried to defend himself. A sinking feeling hit his gut then. Tears flooded his eyes as he looked at Alastair. “Is that selfish?” 

Alastair brought Lucifer into his lap, and the youth hid his face into his shoulder. “You’re allowed to be selfish and have time to yourself, we all need it. And I know that you don’t get a whole lot of time to yourself. I know that you’re just trying to numb the pain. But this is unhealthy. This isn’t the way to do this. You know that.” 

“I can’t help it, I feel emotionally numb when I’m not like this,” Lucifer mumbled, continuing to hide. “So what do I do?” 

“Stop doing this. Look to the future. Graduate, then go to college, have fun. Meet new people,” Alastair said quietly. “It’ll get easier, with time and patience. Have you grieved?” 

Lucifer nodded. “Still am. Tired of it. Want to  _ feel  _ something other than guilt and sadness. Tis why I do it.” 

“What if something bad happened to you?” Alastair asked gently. “Do you want to get hurt?” 

“No,” Lucifer mumbled. Normally, he’d say he didn’t care, but this with Alastair kept him honest. What he  _ truly  _ wanted as something like this. To be taken care of, for a change. He started to cry. 

They fell silent as Lucifer cried and Alastair rubbed his back softly. After a time, Alastair began to sing in a soft, soothing voice, in a language that Lucifer didn’t know, but that he recognized. Norweigan was Alastair’s first language, and he often spoke it when he was in good company. The cadence and beat of the song were familiar, as this was the song that Alastair used to sing to him when his father was drunk, his mother needed her sleep, and he fussed. Lucifer sniffled as he listened, relaxing. 

“There we go, that’s it,” Alastair whispered in English. “Just relax and sleep. I’ll call Michael to have him come and get you in the morning after you go to sleep.” 

Lucifer coughed softly and nodded. “Stay with me?” he asked. “Please? Don’t wanna be alone.” 

“Of course,” Alastair promised, kissing his forehead. He began to sign again, the same Norweigan lullaby that he sang to the boy- now a man, in many ways an adult wiser than his years and in many others a child who needs safety and security. When Lucifer had drifted off to sleep, Alastair called Michael and explained to the young man’s older brother that Lucifer was safe, but in a bad spot. Michael agreed to help his brother out more and promised to get him in the morning. Once that was done, Alastair lifted Lucifer and carried the young man to the guest bedroom that was adjacent to Lucifer’s own. 

Lucifer yawned and curled up in the bed with no issues. Alastair tucked him in and kissed his temple before going to bed himself, praying. 

_ Maria, keep watch over your son,  _ he prayed to the woman he lost in life and in love,  _ and give me the strength to care for him as if he was my own. He is so lost without you.  _

_ So am I,  _ min kjaere.

_ We need you, Maria. We need your love, your strength, your guidance, your resilience.  _

_ The best way that I can remember you is to take care of him. Help me take care of him please,  _ min kjaere. 

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr: @lucibae-is-dancing-in-hell
> 
> Twitter: @Alendra_Dragon
> 
> TikTok: @officerlucifer
> 
> Comments and Kudos are Shiny!!


End file.
